Free Unforgettable by Loretta Ellsworth

isn’t angry, though. She seems almost pleased that I screwed up.
    â€œSorry. The meeting lasted longer than I expected. I got home at 4:55; before you, but after the cable guy.”
    â€œWell, next time …” She doesn’t finish. Maybe saying it out loud will jinx it. I’ve found a place to go that isn’t a research facility and people to hang out with who don’t wear white lab coats. To her, it’s a sign of a normal teen life.
    She stands and gives up on the box. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you took our talk this morning to heart. But the Environmental Club? What made you choose that?”
    A pair of brown eyes. Here’s the part where I have to lie. There’s no way around it, I’ve decided, so I’ve been rehearsing since I got home. The key is to keep my voice even so Mom buys it. I repeat part of a lecture I heard while flipping through the channels on TV last year. “The impact of environmental choices affects us all. More than thirty-eight species of dragonflies have been identified in northern Minnesota. They have very specific habitat requirements, and disturbances in those habitats from water pollution, changes in shoreline vegetation, or changes in forest cover may cause them to disappear.”
    Mom frowns. “I didn’t know you were into dragonflies.”
    â€œNeither did I. I’m trying something new.”
    â€œHmm. I guess I can’t complain. But how did you get home? You must have missed the bus.”
    â€œEddie gave me a ride. He’s a senior and the president of the club.”
    â€œOh, maybe next time I can meet him.” There it is again. Her voice fills the room with promise.
    â€œI also got offered a job,” I tell her. “Just a few afternoons and weekends helping bale hay.”
    Mom’s eyes widen. “You know how to bale hay?”
    â€œNo. But how hard can it be? I need some money of my own to spend.” And I’ve decided that Brad is right. Halle’s not going to be won over by a few green jelly beans.
    â€œWhat about schoolwork? What about the C-minus?”
    â€œNot a problem. I can handle it.”
    She twists her mouth sideways and makes a weird face. It’s her thinking pose. “I suppose. But you’ll have to find a ride and if your grades don’t go up you’ll have to quit.”
    â€œI can ride there with Brad after school a couple days each week if you can pick me up later. And it’s just a temporary job.”
    â€œAre you sure you’re my son? This morning you didn’t want to do anything, and in one day you’ve joined a club and you have a part-time job.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Well, I guess it will be good for you. All this fresh, North-Country air.” Then she goes outside to have a cigarette. She doesn’t even see the irony in it.
    It strikes me when she leaves; how easy it was to lie to her. I’ve avoided telling lies my whole life, felt that it was against my nature. I imagined my tongue bursting into flames like a vampire caught in bright sunlight. But I’m standing here without any burns or gashes and only a tiny bit of guilt to bother me. Nothing I can’t handle.
    Lies are easier than secrets. No one forgets a secret, not even people with average memories. Secrets are heavy. They’re anchors that weigh a person down; the longer you keep them the heavier they become. And that thought sends me to my closet once again to check out my guitar case. I gave the guitar to the Salvation Army years ago.
    â€œYou’re gonna love this,” Dink said. “I always wanted one when I was a kid.” He took the guitar out of the case and tuned the strings as he held the pick on the end of his tongue. Then he strummed a few chords and belted out a horrible rendition of Willie Nelson’s “On The Road Again.”
    I was eleven years old and couldn’t have cared less